


Cat among the pigeons

by Oriberry



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:43:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10753173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oriberry/pseuds/Oriberry
Summary: Just for once Belle wishes her cat would just leave Mr Gold alone, instead of constantly breaking and entering the pawnshop...





	Cat among the pigeons

If there is one thing Gold cannot stand, it’s cats. No matter the breed, colour or size, they’re a lazy abomination. And if his eyes do not mistake him, there appears to be one currently installed in his shop in the form of a massive ball of ginger fluff, topped off by a pair of cool green eyes and a set of quite frankly ridiculous white whiskers.

Swearing under his breath that this is the very last time that blasted animal breaks and enters the pawn shop, Gold pulls on his coat with unnecessary violence and, throwing a belligerent glare at the offending feline who generously pauses from licking its paws for long enough to respond with a cool stare of its own, pulls the door open and makes his way over to the library. It’s early, but it’s never too early to pick a fight. Miss French is for the high jump this time, no matter how much she flutters those unnecessarily long eyelashes at him.

00000

Belle startles at the sound of a low cough that drags her attention away from Decline and Fall, which she’s been thoroughly engrossed in. She’s going through an Evelyn Waugh phase and this one never fails to make her laugh. It’s just what she needs to get her through a quiet Monday morning.

“I do hope I am not interrupting you from carrying out your terribly important work, Miss French?”

Ah. The King of Sarcasm and Snark has entered the building. Belle gently closes the book and places it on the front desk. She recognises that tone. It’s stern and distinctly unamused and belongs to her landlord, the ever mysterious and perpetually grumpy Mr Gold. Time to play it cool. It would never do to let him get any more under her skin than he already does.

“Mr Gold, you’re not disturbing me at all. What can I do for you this morning?” Belle congratulates herself on being able to greet him in what she thinks is her best neutral tone. For all she knows he’s here to seek her advice on what’s new in stock this week (ever the optimist) - or to invite her out for coffee (ever the wishful thinker).

For if truth be told, Belle has been nursing a tiny little crush on the oh so serious property owner for as long as she can remember - and has had to endure Ruby’s endless gentle ribbing ever since she caught Belle blushing one time after Gold had held the door open for them both at Granny’s, acknowledging them both with a soft “Ladies, after you” (which did terrible, delicious things to Belle’s insides).

In the never-ending silence that ensues, Belle has ample time to note that Gold is sporting a coat that probably cost the same as a first edition of Pride and Prejudice, and which is moulded beautifully to his body. Unfortunately, he’s also sporting a severe expression that tells her he is the bearer of bad news and Belle’s heart sinks a little. Whatever he’s here for, it probably isn’t for a bit of early morning banter.

A closer look at Gold’s coat provides her with an additional - and unwelcome - clue as to why he’s seeking her out today. If she is not mistaken there is cat hair clinging to his collar and a beam of weak sunlight highlights further gingery evidence strewn around the cuffs. 

Belle’s heart sinks into her new suede purple boots. 

That cat is going to be grounded for the foreseeable future. 

As Belle worries her lower lip, Gold slowly and very deliberately leans forward until he is so close to her that she can see tiny flecks of gold in his irises. She’d always thought his eyes were the colour of a rich, dark treacle but this morning they’re gleaming like polished amber.

Belle is so caught up in this exciting new revelation that she (almost) forgets she’s in trouble.

“Miss French,” Gold says in his glorious Scottish burr, bringing her back to the present with a nasty jolt. “You are the owner - and I use that description under advisement - if I am correct, of a feline.” 

Belle pauses for a moment weighing up her options before sighing quietly. The gig is up. She nods, reluctantly, and licks her suddenly very dry lips.

There is a flicker of something that dances across Gold’s face, but it’s gone so quickly that Belle has no time to analyse it.

“Would you by any chance be interested in knowing the whereabouts of said feline?”

She suspects this is a rhetorical question but nods again. And then she supplies helpfully, “Wilbur. His name is wilbur.” 

She’s not sure where the need to share her pet’s name came from, although come to think of it the pawnbroker and Wilbur do share some similarities, most notably the ability to look incredibly supercilious. 

Gold stares at her incredulously but Belle holds her nerve and raises a defiant eyebrow as if to say “What? You have a problem with Wilbur?” 

Eventually, when it’s clear that the librarian is not going to expand on that opening statement, Gold continues. “Wilbur then,” and his voice is as dry as an ancient manuscript. “Wilbur as I speak is shedding fur liberally all over my shop. I shudder to think what damage he’s been busy wreaking in my absence so you might wish to come and collect him as soon as you’re able.” He pauses (always so dramatic, Belle thinks). “And if i catch him again, believe me Miss French when I tell you there will be a price to pay.”

Mr Gold’s tone is withering and Belle wilts a little under his gaze. But then, unexpectedly, as she’s hanging her head in shame, she hears him say, in a darker, deeper tone that hints of things altogether too dark and tempting for her own good, “And it will be most severe.” 

Belle jerks her head upwards just in time to see a tiny smile vanish from Gold’s lips.

Is Gold - is he - flirting with her? 

He’s certainly studying Belle intently, his eyes now darker than dark and impossible to read. Belle’s heart feels like it’s beating in her throat and for a moment she almost forgets how to breathe, before snapping to.

And instinctively she knows she has to seize the moment because for some reason, for some utterly wonderful, insane reason, he’s allowing a tiny chink in his Armani armour to open up. He’s made the first overture, now it’s her turn. 

Belle licks her lips again - just to make sure she wasn’t imagining Gold’s earlier reaction. No, she wasn’t, at least if the way that his pupils dilate is anything to go by. 

Quickly - before she can change her mind - Belle pushes herself off from the counter and trips lightly around to where he is standing. Gold stands his ground but she notices that the hand gripping his cane has tightened. She dances closer still until she can see the individual cat hairs on his collar and smell his expensive woody cologne. In her heels she’s almost at the same height as him and she sees him swallow convulsively.

Not so brave now, is he?

Belle on the other hand is suddenly feeling very bold. He hasn’t turned tail and fled so that’s a good sign, she thinks. She runs a finger up Gold’s tie until it’s resting on the knot. The silk is cool and smooth, much like the wearer (or rather like the wearer was; now he’s radiating heat, his cheekbones slightly reddened and oh ho ho, she’s really got him on the backfoot now. 

“How severe?”

Gold looks down at her but remains stubbornly silent. Belle tugs at his tie to pull him down so their faces are level. Belle stares at his mouth and then drags her eyes up to meet his. And now it’s his turn to moisten his lips and she catches a glint of his gold tooth. 

“I asked you a question Mr Gold. How. Severe?”

Gold gusts out a tiny breath before whispering “More severe than you can possibly imagine.” 

And Belle pounces.

00000

 

It’s now early afternoon and Gold is carrying out his inventory - somewhat later than he’d originally planned and looking considerably more rumpled than usual. Or rather Gold would very much like to be carrying out an inventory but he is being constantly distracted by Wilbur (stupid name for a stupid cat) swatting languidly at the cards with his stupid white paws. Only one of them is having fun and Gold is pretty sure it’s not him. 

“Will you stop that, you’re nothing but a nuisance.” Gold’s admonishment is met by a pair of innocent green eyes and a look like butter wouldn’t melt. Wilbur emits a rumbly purr before risking another attack on the card dangling temptingly in front of him.

“I’m going to lock you in a cupboard if you don’t desist this very instant.” The cat ignores this threat in favour of suddenly staring hard at the bell above the door and Gold decides to take advantage of the sudden change of Wilbur’s focus to start jotting down some notes. It must be all of thirty seconds later when the bell starts jangling furiously and a slightly flushed-faced librarian pokes her head around the door. 

Belle really does look adorable and Gold’s smile widens into something close to a wicked grin. 

“Ah Miss French, I see you’ve finally plucked up the courage to come and collect your overgrown tribble.” 

Gold’s tone might be dry but his eyes glow and Belle’s smile now matches his own. Her hair, so meticulously coiled around her head earlier, now lies loose against her shoulders and the curls bounce in time with her steps as she moves across the shop floor, laden down with a kitty carrier in one hand and a takeout bag in the other.

“I thought you might have worked up a bit of an appetite after this morning but if you’re going to be like that..” and Belle mock glares at him.

Gold moves to rescue their food before she drops something. Granny might be an old battle axe but nobody can deny she provides the best burgers in town.

“Here, let me,” he offers and wrestles two iced teas from her and places them on the counter. Gold drops a swift, hard kiss on Belle’s mouth, which she instantly melts into. Wilbur, never one to pass up on an opportunity for easily-won food, takes advantage of his owner(s) temporary madness to swipe at the bag.

Gold hears the give-away sound of rustling paper and reluctantly pulls away.

“And give me the cat carrier, so I can get this misbegotten animal away from us.”

There’s an unseemly scuffle before Wilbur, protesting strongly, is firmly locked up in his cat prison. His scrunched up face is pressed up against the bars but his owner hardens her heart against the plaintive miaous. He’s placed gently on the floor, safely out of sight, and then Gold drags Belle to the backroom, not wanting to waste another moment of their lunch break on that infuriating, insufferable hairball.

A quarter of an hour later and they’re finishing off the last of the fries and pickles when Gold suddenly stops in his tracks. A tiny speck of ketchup is in the corner of Belle’s mouth and it’s distracting. So distracting in fact that he leans forward and with a very quick swipe of his tongue licks the spot clean before regaining his seat with a smug expression on his face.

Belle allows him this self-congratulatory moment and sits back and looks - really looks - at the man opposite her. She still can’t quite believe the transformation Gold has undertaken, from severe and unapproachable to soft and relaxed. The immaculate suit jacket has been jettisoned, his sleeves are rolled halfway up the forearm and the top three buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a tantalising triangle of delectable flesh. He’s practically naked and Belle is altogether happy about this.

Their eyes lock and Belle holds his gaze as she takes his plate away from him, placing it on the table, putting hers on top of it. She glances up at the antique clock over the fireplace. Plenty of time before she needs to be back at the library. And she has a good idea how that time might be well spent.

Gold watches her every move as she reaches into her dress pocket and pulls out his silk tie from this morning. Belle is pretty sure that that noise he makes in his throat when he’s completely turned on is going to be one of her favourites.

“Well, Mr Gold, by my reckoning we’ve got at least another thirty minutes before the good people of Storybrooke come beating a path to my door. And I seem to recall there was some mention of a price to pay,” and she loops the tie around his neck to pull him up close. “Shall we?”


End file.
